


Adamare

by elareine



Series: JayTim Week 2019 [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bullying, Christmas, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-26 12:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Jason starts magic school two years late and with a terrible reputation. To say that his time there isn’t easy would be an understatement. Some people, however, make everything worth it.





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> For JayTim-Week: Free Week, and Batfam Bingo: "Just Friends".

“Todd, Jason!” 

Feeling the stares on him as he walked to the front, Jason reminded himself that his clothing was just as new and shiny as everyone else’s here. Of course, that thought then just made him feel ashamed of himself. He’d been Bruce Wayne’s ward for less than five months; he wouldn’t start taking this money for granted, not now, not ever. 

Jason shifted his gait so his sneakers dragged along the ground a bit and his cloak fell open slightly, revealing his favorite hoodie underneath. There. Better. 

The room was silent as he sat down on the chair in the front and lifted the hat onto his head as he had seen other students do. It would sort them into houses, which was weird to Jason but supposedly normal for an English boarding school. Apparently, this school was modeled on a major one in Great Britain. The white upper-class wizards that had been among the first to ‘settle’ the East Coast had sniffed their noses at the school founded by an Irishwoman, of all people, and created one that reminded them of home barely two hundred miles away. 

It was called Schola Artis Magicae, for God’s sake. These people had _not_ been imaginative. 

_No. No, I suppose they weren’t._

Oh, great, the hat was talking to him. How did that even work? Was it telepathy or just a shallow whisper into his ears? 

_A curious mind, huh? Brave, too, though. Hm… Do you have a preference? _

Jason had read up on the houses in ‘A History of Magic’ before he came here, but even Alfred hadn’t been able to satisfactorily explain to him what the point was. Dividing children up by allegedly defining characteristics seemed premature to him, not to mention leading to potentially dangerous stereotyping. Why not just go and go by favorite color or something? What was the problem with drawing lots? It was just stupid—

_I see. _“Ravenclaw!”

Right. That was the blue and bronze table. Jason headed towards under applause that was lukewarm at best. A few students smiled at him, but mostly everyone was occupied with watching the rest of the sorting hat ceremony. 

When it was over, the food appeared. At least Jason had read about this, so he was prepared for this. Still, this was… a _lot_ of food. Even Alfred would disapprove of the waste. Who even made all this? Hopefully, it was just a feast for a special occasion… 

As he ate, Jason looked around. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables were behind him, so he focused on the Slytherin one (green and silver). He tried to remember what this house’s supposed defining trait was—cunning? Ambition? Something like that? Honestly, most of them just looked like kids to him. One of them was even tinier than all of the other first years. With a pang of pity, he thought: _He’s gonna get eaten._

Then, another one of the Slytherins said something, and Jason watched as the tiny first year drew himself up and fixed him with a glare so cold Jason was a bit surprised it wasn’t magical and turned the older student into stone. Jesus, where had the kid learned to do that? Jason clearly didn’t need to worry about him. 

Maybe he should worry about himself. None of his fellow first-years had spoken a word to him so far. 

After dinner, their prefect took them up to the tower. The riddle system for the portrait seemed easy to crack to Jason, but maybe that was the point? This was a school, for God’s sake. They were shown their rooms, but when Jason made to follow the other boys inside, the prefect took him aside. “Look, we’re aware you’re in a somewhat… unique situation.” 

Jason just stared at him, saying nothing. 

“And I thought… It just happens that two years ago, only one boy got selected for Ravenclaw. I’ve never been happy about having anyone living alone, so… maybe you’d be more comfortable rooming with someone your own age?” 

Great. Another thing that would make him stand out. Jason wanted to decline, saying he’d be just fine rooming with the eleven-year-olds.

However… looking at the group that was supposed to be his, he counted six people. Jason knew himself well enough to know that living with this many kids would drive him up the wall within a week. Rooming with a single person who hopefully had matured a bit might be more manageable. 

“Okay.” 

The prefect looked relieved. “Great. I already talked to him, he loved the idea. Your dorm is this one, then.” 

The staircase shifted enough to let Jason knock on the small, wooden door. 

“Come in!” a cheerful voice called. 

Jason did. The room was airy and spacious with two four-poster beds and roomy closets, as well as huge floor-to-ceiling windows. A lanky redhead sat on the ground between the beds, a multitude of random items spread around him. The first thing Jason noticed about him was his smile; the second was his hands, incongruously large and calloused for someone who looked like a breeze could topple him over. 

“Uh, hi? I’m supposed to be staying here.” 

The boy got up in a hurry. “Jason, right? Nice to meet you, dude, I’m Roy.” 

“Hey.” Jason gave an awkward little wave. 

“You can put your stuff in there. I’ve been sleeping by the wall, is that alright with you?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Better than, actually. Closed spaces still made Jason antsy. 

While Jason unpacked his things (all the equipment Bruce had bought, some clothes, his favorite books), Roy sat back down on the ground and watched him. “So you’re my age, right?” 

“I guess? I’m thirteen.” 

“How come you’re only starting now?” 

Jason, to his own surprise, appreciated the frank questions. Might as well get it out now. “I was only adopted into a Wizarding family last year.”

“Oh yeah, by the Waynes, right? I know your brother.” 

Well, that made one of them. Dick had been very distant when he’d been home during the summer; Jason had gotten the distinct impression that he’d disapproved of Bruce adopting Jason. The fighting had been hard to miss. 

“Didn’t you get your letter before that, though?” Roy asked curiously. 

Jason shrugged. “Sure. But I had no way to follow up on it.” A kid trying to fend for himself on the streets didn’t have the kind of resource that got him to a magical train station. Not to mention, he wouldn’t have been able to afford a wand, back then. 

Trying to lighten the mood, he added: “I also thought it was a prank. Like, if you’re a muggle, giant owls following you to draft you into a magic school means that you’ve either gone mad, your friends are having a laugh, or someone is trying to kidnap you.” 

Roy snorted. “Fair. Well, you’re here now. Wanna help me build a glitter bomb?” 

Jason took in the equipment surrounding his new roommate. “That’s a lot of stuff for a simple glitter bomb.” 

“The plan might just be to have it follow around the DADA teacher. Have it spell out stuff, maybe.”

“Why the DADA teacher?” 

“She likes making the first-years cry on their first day.” 

Jason thought of the prim blonde sitting at the teacher’s table and plopped down next to Roy. “Can you add sound? I’m thinking ‘Barbie Girl.’” 

Roy held out a hand. “Jason, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 

Jason shook it gravely. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad. 


	2. Year Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other.

Jason hurried down the steps of the dungeons. He didn’t want to be late. 

They had been assigned a partner work for Transfiguration class, a project that took weeks to brew and would be 40% of their grade this year. Since Jason was very much the odd one out in his year, he had been assigned to work with the remaining Slytherin in his class: Tim Drake. 

They had classes together before. Jason hadn’t known much about Tim beyond noting that he was intelligent when he bothered, which he mostly didn’t. He’d done his share in the project without complaint, though. 

Actually, he hadn’t talked much at all. Or smiled. Maybe he just didn’t like Jason? 

Eh, whatever, not like Jason cared. At least Tim was punctual as always today, already waiting for him outside the storage room where their animation was housed for the time being.

“Hey,” Jason greeted him. 

“Hey.” 

Looked like Tim was feeling conversational today. He was looking at the ground instead of Jason, too. “Alright, let’s get this done,” Jasons said, opening the door. 

The project was supposed to teach them how to layer and interlock charms. Jason suspected it was more about losing your nerve with fiddly stuff. They’d quickly decided they would work on it a bit most days of the weeks instead of all at once, and it was coming along beautifully, the little farm animals moving and interacting as if they were alive. Today, they were going to start adding sounds. 

Or they would have, had the room been empty, but no. Huxley and Sebastian, the two main instigators of trouble in their year, together with two others Jason didn’t know well, were in there, doing something to projects that Jason couldn’t see.

“Hey, what’re you up to?” he asked, stepping into the room. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Tim tense. 

“None of your business, mudblood!” Sebastian sneered. “Why don’t you tell your real daddy to write a complaint? Oh wait, he can’t, because he doesn’t even have an owl.”

Jason mentally rolled his eyes. Wizard society and their insistence on magical bloodlines. It was as if none of these fuckers had ever visited a history class—oh wait, they hadn’t, because the only thing taught at this school was magical history, and Jason suspected even that was heavily edited. 

“Let’s just go. We can come back later,” he murmured to Tim, who nodded, his face unreadable. But before they could, Huxley blocked the door. 

“Didn’t you hear me, mudblood?” 

“No, sorry, could you maybe speak just a little bit louder? I think there’s a deaf granny in Las Vegas who hasn’t heard you.” 

“What?” 

“Las Vegas? It’s a big city.” Jason spoke extra slow as if he was talking to a particularly stupid four-year-old. “City, that’s a place where people live—” 

Huxley turned purple and drew his wand. “You asshole, I’ll show you—”

Tim just lifted his wand, smiled and whispered, “Petrificus Totalus,” perfect wand motion and all. Huxley went down like a stone. 

“What the—you’ll pay for that!” His friends tried to advance on them, wands drawn and intent on hexing them. 

Jason watched how fixated they were on his left hand holding the wand, actually rolled his eyes this time, and punched Sebastian in the gut with his right. He might be shorter than anyone else his age, but at least he didn’t rely purely on his magic. 

“Expelliarmus,” Tim said, and the two remaining boys found themselves without a wand. They immediately looked terrified. Jason introduced one of them to his right hook anyway, just cause he could. The last one standing shrank from him, so he didn’t bother.

“Anything else?” Jason drawled. 

The boy visibly decided that retreat was the best part of valor. 

“You’ll never be one of us, you—you psychos! A mudblood and a psycho!” Parting shots fired, they left, dragging their petrified friend along by the shoulders. 

The room was silent. 

When they didn’t come back after a minute or so, Jason allowed himself to exhale. “Well, that was… fun?” 

Tim snorted. “Fun.” 

“Huxley’s face when you petrified him? C’ mon, that was funny. No wonder they left spewing insults.”

Tim didn’t answer directly. “Are you one? Like they said?” 

“Am I what? A psychopath? All signs point to yes.” 

“A mudblood.” 

“I have absolutely no idea.” Honestly, maybe his mom had merely been too drugged up to show him her magic, and his dad stupid enough to get himself locked up and killed despite his. Jason could be a pureblood for all he knew. 

Yeah, Jason didn’t think so either. 

There was no need to ask Tim the same question. The Drakes were one of the oldest pureblood families and proud of it, even Jason knew that. Begged the question of why Tim had even defended him. 

Just as he was about to ask, however, Tim looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened. “Oh, no.” 

Jason turned around. Fuck. 

He stared at the remains of their project in dismay. It would take days to fix all this, just to get back to where they had been. Tim wouldn’t want to invest that much time in it, and Jason wouldn’t be able to do it by himself, and then his grades would suffer and—

Bruce wasn’t going to throw him out because of one mediocre grade. Jason knew that. He _knew_ that. 

There was a gentle pressure on his elbow. “We can fix this,” Tim said. 

Jason made himself look at him, but Tim’s face was turned down even as he continued: “We’ll just have to camp out during the weekend.” 

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course.” Was that a blush? “I’m not going to leave you hanging.” 

Jason took a deep breath, and then another. “Okay. Okay, let’s just… check what’s left, and clean up.” 

Tim pressed his elbow again and smiled down. “Sure.” 

When he entered the Great Hall the next morning for breakfast, Jason looked around. Tim wasn’t with his usual Gryffindor friends. Instead, he sat at the Slytherin table, keeping a notable distance from the other members of his house. Now that Jason thought about it, he’d seen the other boy alone more often than not for the last few weeks. 

With a glance, Jason confirmed that Roy and Kori wouldn’t miss him (they were holding hands under the table again, Jason knew that expression on their faces,) and changed course. Tim’s face when Jason slid into the seat next to him and started helping himself to food was pretty priceless. 

Tim stared him for a full minute before asking: “What are you doing?” 

Jason stalled: “Uh—” 

He had no idea what to say. 

The corner of Tim’s mouth began to switch. “You didn’t think this through, did you?” 

“Nope.” 

Tim was full-on grinning. “Wanna talk about that book you’ve been carrying around for weeks, and I’ll rant at you about Quidditch?”

“Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“…that’s not my name.” 

“I know.” 


	3. Year Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What we need is more time.

“Jason.” 

The sun was bright in his face as he lay on the sidewalk, breathing in the smoke that lingered in Gotham’s streets. Around him, people just kept walking, paying no notice to the child in their midst. He should get up—if he didn’t find someone to pickpocket soon, he wouldn’t eat today—but it was so nice and warm, here on the ground, and he was so sleepy… 

“Jason!” The whisper became more urgent and was joined by a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake.

Jason opened his eyes. 

“Hmm?” he asked blearily. 

Tim looked at him with an unreadable expression. “You fell asleep again. I covered for you during partner work, but we’ll need to gather again in a minute.” 

Jason could feel his neck heat up. “Thanks.” Dammit. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep _again_. Divination wasn’t the most interesting of subjects, but Mrs. Zatara was a nice lady, no reason to insult her like this. 

At least he had this class with Tim. The other boy pretended to be an asshole about it, but his methods were far gentler than, say, Roy’s. 

Tim was silent when class ended. They grabbed some food from the hall, and then Jason found himself being dragged to the lake, one of their favorite hang-out spots. Grateful for the quiet, he plopped down onto the ground and started tearing into his sandwich. 

Tim sat down next to him and ate his own with far more decorum. Only then did the lecture start. “That’s the third time you’ve fallen asleep in class in two weeks,” he said severely. “I can’t remember the last time you took an evening off this year.” 

“It’s fine. It’s just more studying to do this year with all the electives.” 

Tim didn’t look impressed. “You could just drop some classes, you know.” 

“But then I don’t get to continue them.” 

“Yes, Jason, that’s the point.” 

“But they’ll only get more interesting!” At Tim’s skeptical glance, he tried to explain: “I know Arithmancy is a bit boring right now, but it’s really foundational. It shouldn’t be an elective. Same goes for Ancient Runes.” 

“God, you’re such a nerd.” 

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Take that back!” 

Jason grinned smugly. “Nope.” 

Within a second, Tim was on him, fingers finding his most ticklish spots with ease. Tim was stronger than he looked, muscles lean and strong from Quidditch practice, but Jason gave as good as he got, trying to tip him over and going for the soft skin on his belly. 

“Okay, give!” Tim finally called out. Jason let go of him with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Don’t think you can get out of this so easily.” Tim grabbed his schedule and looked it over. “Jason, why is Muggle Studies on there?” 

“‘Cause someone has to correct Mr. Nashton.” 

“And Divination?” 

“‘Cause I can take a nap and be entertained when I wake up.” And because Tim was in it, but Jason wouldn’t tell him that.

“What about History of Magic? You’re reading about it in your free time anyway.” 

“That doesn’t replace the value of academic discussions, Tim. Also, it’s a core subject.” 

“Eh, I never go.” 

“You should, it’s—” 

“Care of Magical Creatures?” 

“What if I run into a hippogriff? Do you want me to be unprepared? Do you want me to die?” Jason is only half-joking. “And again, I think we place far too little value on what we can learn from them.” 

“Ghoul studies?” 

“Are you kidding me, it’s a class about zombies.” 

“I thought you said zombies aren’t real.” The way Tim pronounced ‘zombies’ like it was a foreign delicacy whose existence Jason may or may not have made up was hilarious. 

“They aren’t, but if they were real, they’d be ghouls.” 

“That doesn’t—stop distracting me!” 

“Never.” 

“Urgh.” Tim looked over the schedule again. “How are you even doing this? You have three classes scheduled for eleven.” 

“Uh.” Jason technically wasn’t supposed to talk about that. 

Tim, however, wasn’t easy to stop once he found a trail to follow. He looked at the schedule one more time, then grabbed Jason’s bag and opened it before Jason could stop him. “Okay, I saw you in Divination, so you were obviously there, but you’re also carrying everything for Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.” 

“I have homework to catch up on?” 

“Jason.” For a thirteen-year-old, Tim had one hell of a glare. 

Jason sighed. “Promise not to tell?” 

“Of course.” 

“They let me have restricted use of a time-turner.” 

“You fucker,” Tim laughed, not looking at all surprised. “You’ve been doing five hours of classes before lunch? No wonder you needed a nap.” 

“I keep telling you,” Jason grumbled, not annoyed at all. 

They laid back down on the grass, staring up at the blue sky.

“A time turner would be awesome.” Tim’s voice was wistful. Jason wondered what he was thinking about. 

“Yeah, I’m only allowed to use it under supervision for those specific classes. No Back to the Future shit for me.” 

“Back to the Future?” 

Jason sighed. “We’ve got to get you caught up on your muggle films.” 

“If you can find time for that between all your classes.” 

“Low blow.” 

“Look,” Tim said earnestly, “just think about it, okay? It’s not even Fall vacation yet, and you’re running yourself ragged.”

“Alright, hotshot,” Jason teased him. Tim was just hitting a growth spurt with fourteen, not exactly shooting up, but just enough to look gangly instead of slender. In his Quidditch uniform, he looked like a creature out from Mario Party. “As if you wouldn’t use a time trainer just to train more.” 

Tim sniffed. “I don’t need additional practice to be the best.” 

“Maybe,” Jason allowed. “Your team, however…” 

“What would you know? You haven’t been to practice in a month. Maybe we’ve rapidly improved.” 

Jason thought that rather unlikely, but a bolt of guilt shot through him nonetheless. 

Ever since Tim had joined the Quidditch team half-way through their second year, when the team’s original seeker had lost his fight against academic probation, Jason had made a point out of taking his homework or books to the fields and casually cheer him on. He’d just been so tired lately, hadn’t found the energy to drag himself outside in the evenings, instead electing to stay in the library all by himself. 

Maybe Tim had a point. 

“I’ll see at the game tonight, right?” he asked for now. Maybe he should make a new banner, surprise Tim. There would be time during History of Magic. 

“You better cheer for me instead of your brother.” 

That was a given, but Jason wasn’t going to tell Tim that. “Maybe I’ll cheer for my own house, has that ever occurred to you?” 

Tim’s answering hand gesture was fantastically dismissive. “Oh, please. It’s Gryffindor or Slytherin this year, and you know it.” 

And just like that, Jason knew he was forgiven. 


	4. Year Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy.

Christmas at the Manor was a strange and wonderful thing. The first year, Jason had been antsy, awkward in all these traditions that were his own. Now he loved it. He would never forget where he came from, but times like these reminded him he had a family again. 

Jason still preferred handmade gifts to bought ones, but his family never seemed to mind. Alfred, especially, seemed to love the three spice mixtures Jason had made for him. They were all just standing up from the Christmas lunch Jason had helped prepare, praising the cooking as always, when the doorbell rang. 

Bruce frowned. “I don’t recall inviting anyone.”

“I’ll get it,” Jason volunteered, seeing how Alfred was busy directing the dishes to clean themselves. “If it’s Vicki, I’ll tell her you’re in Europe or something.” 

“If it’s her, I’ve left the planet.” 

Laughing, Jason opened the door and—“Tim?” 

For a second, he thought he must be hallucinating. Maybe Alfred had spiked the punch, after all? But no, it _was_ Tim standing there, wearing only slacks and a nice shirt that offered absolutely no protection from the snow. He was trembling. 

“Jason, hi. I’m so sorry for barging in—” 

“What the fuck, come in.” Jason grabbed Tim by the (way too thin) sleeve and pulled, throwing the door shut behind him. In the light of the hallway, Tim looked even worse. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his movements were erratic. 

“Tim?” Jason tried to keep his voice gentle even as rage shot through him at whoever made Tim look like that. “What happened?” 

Tim looked determinedly at the ground. 

Carefully, Jason took a step closer, raising his hands to cup Tim’s elbows. “Are you okay? Please, just—talk to me.” 

“My parents wanted me to take the Mark,” Tim whispered, “and I said no.” 

“_Tim_,” Jason said, pulling his friend into his arms and hugging him tightly. The thin body against his was shaking so much it couldn’t be just from the cold. Tim pressed closer, his hands fisting into Jason’s hoodie, and then he was hiding his face in Jason’s shoulder and sobbing as if his world had just ended.

Like a boy whose parents chose a Dark Lord over him. 

Looking up, Jason saw that Alfred had come up behind them. He quickly shook his head, trying to signal that he didn’t think Tim was in the mood for company right now. Alfred nodded and withdrew. 

Jason didn’t know how long they stood there until Tim calmed a bit. Once the sobs had died down (though there were still tears running down Tim’s face), Jason didn’t so much let go of the younger boy as shifted him in his arms so they could walk. 

“Come on,” he murmured, “my room is right over there.” 

They finally made it inside and Jason directed them toward the bed.

“Here, sit down—or wait, take off that wet shirt first.” Seeing how sluggish Tim’s movements suddenly were, Jason helped him get the garment over his head, then gently pushed him down to the bed. Thanking God for Alfred’s self-heating pads, he slipped one of them under Tim’s back, another on the front, and then piled the comforter on top of him. 

Tim’s eyes were falling shut by the time he was done, but he still reached out to grasp Jason’s sleeve and whisper: “Jason. I can’t—I can’t go back there.”

Jason gently took the hand into his own, letting Tim clutch as tightly as he wanted. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Tim, I promise.” 

Tim didn’t smile, but he did relax, enough so that he was asleep in minutes. Jason watched over him until he was sure the other wouldn’t wake up within the next fifteen minutes. Reluctantly, he untangled his hand from Tim’s and left to inform his family of the situation. 

When he entered the living room, Dick and Bruce were already waiting anxiously. “Alfred said your friend is in considerable distress. Can we do anything?” Bruce asked. 

“Yeah, uh, that’s one way to phrase it.” Jason hesitated. It felt wrong, baring Tim’s trauma to people Tim barely knew, but he didn’t think they had a choice. “That was Tim Drake. His parents tried to force the Mark onto him.”

The expression on Bruce’s face turned thunderous, and he rose from his chair. “What? Is he injured?” 

“In shock and sleeping, but no, I don’t think so.” Jason had a quiet suspicion just what kind of curse wizards like the Drakes would use to convince someone. He shuddered just thinking about Tim suffering through that kind of pain, but it wouldn’t leave any marks.

“Did they—” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“No. I don’t know how he managed it, but he escaped,” Jason reassured him. He’d seen Tim shirtless, after all. Then he looked at Bruce. “I told him he could stay here.” 

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get custody if his parents fight it,” Bruce said. 

Dick looked mutinous. “Trying to make a kid take the Mark against his will is fucking child abuse. Should be more than enough for the Ministry to take him away from them.”

“I agree. I’m afraid the Ministry won’t.” 

“From what he said, I don’t think his parents will fight it,” Jason offered, a bit antsy. He didn’t want to leave Tim alone up there in a strange room for too long. 

A calculating expression he’d never witnessed before slid onto Bruce’s face. “You said he’s a Drake?” At Jason’s nod, he continued: “They were always big on family honor. You could be right—knowing that he came here might be enough for them to leave him alone. However, just to make sure…” 

Dick had caught on. “Weren’t they suspects in that artifact smuggling ring two years ago?” 

“I don’t think they’d appreciate me re-opening that case if they’re planning on returning to their old master.” Bruce’s expression was cold. “That will be something of a negotiation advantage.” 

On the one hand, Jason really appreciated the cunning. On the other, this was a human being they were talking about, and Jason wanted to get back to him. 

Bruce must’ve noticed. He said: “We’ll take care of it, Jason. Whatever happens, he can stay here. There’s no question of letting his parents near him again. I’d just like to have the power of attorney in case they try to make things difficult for him at school.” 

Jason nodded, content to leave the matter in Bruce’s hands, and turned to leave. 

“Jason,” Bruce called after him. He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Did it—did it ever occur to you that I might not take him in?” 

Jason blinked. “Uh. No.” Only an asshole would turn away Tim. Bruce was a lot of things, but not that kind of asshole. 

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” 

Jason stared as his adopted father turned away. Was that a tear in Bruce’s eye? Dick’s smile was weird, too. He shrugged it off. 

When he returned to his room, Tim was still sleeping the sleep of the deeply exhausted, but he was shifting slightly and his eyes were clearly moving underneath his lids. For a second, Jason considered his options. In the end, he went with his instincts and crawled into bed right next to Tim, trying not to disturb him too much as he wrapped himself around him and took his hand again. 

With a sigh, Tim relaxed against him, calming down. Jason held him close for the rest of his nap, but he didn’t let himself fall asleep—someone needed to watch over Tim, and if his parents wouldn’t, then he’d be here. 


	5. Year Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armors had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful” sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words.

“Dude. Get the fuck out of here before I hex you.” 

Jason stopped pacing and glared at his roommate. “Aren’t you nervous at all?” Roy might fool others with his put-on confidence, but Jason knew better by now. 

“Nah. Kori is going to look so gorgeous that no one will be giving me so much as a glance.” Roy looked immensely satisfied with his prospects. 

The Yule ball (re-introduced to SAM because there had been one at Hogwarts two years ago, and if Hogwarts jumped off a cliff, so would SAM) had been creating all kinds of drama for weeks. No one talked about anything except asking out their crush and learning to dance. Roses popped up on people’s plates, cherubs sang songs during class, and one Slytherin had gotten the Quidditch team to spell out her proposal to her girlfriend on broomstick. 

Jason had known who he wanted to ask for ages. Hell, _everyone_ had probably known who he wanted to ask for ages. Even Bruce had taken him aside during fall break to give an awkward speech about how he considered both him and Tim his sons, but that he wouldn’t stand in the way of anything as long as they promised to be careful with each other. Jason had never felt so humiliated as when he had to tell Bruce that nothing was happening; that Tim didn’t want him_ that_ way. 

However, he was going to try. The occasion came when he and Tim watched a dance choreography ‘spontaneously’ break out at lunch and Tim said: “If I see one more over-the-top proposal I’m going to throw up. What’s wrong with just asking? This whole Yule Ball thing is so stupid.” 

Jason had inhaled, exhaled, and then he had finally asked: “Hey. Maybe we could—we could go together?” 

Tim had beamed at him in a way that made Jason think _this is it, we’re finally—_ “That’s such a good idea. Fuck going as a couple, who needs that?” 

So Jason had received his answer. It hadn’t been the one he’d hoped for, but he’d be fine, he promised himself. He’d still have a nice evening with his best friend, and if he was nervous about the way he looked, then that was just hormones. 

With that thought, he finally squared his shoulders and headed for the door. 

“Atta, boy!” Roy called after him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

Tim was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. Unlike Jason, who had gone for a simple suit, he was clad in Wizarding formal attire. Jason distantly noted that the soft grey suited him well, but honestly, this Tim wasn’t any more (or less) breathtaking than all the other ones he had the privilege to see every day. 

Their eyes met as he descended and for a moment, Jason could have sworn the air turned heavy and charged—but that was just in his mind. Tim swept into a low bow when Jason reached him, and Jason laughed and returned the gesture far more clumsily. “What a pleasure, Mr. Wayne.” 

“It’s all mine, Mr. Todd,” Tim replied in most haughty voice and offered Jason an arm. 

Jason looked down at it with a raised eyebrow until Tim pouted and grabbed Jason’s arm, instead, pushing his hand into the grove of Jason’s elbow. Yeah, Jason had thought so. 

“Why are you so tall,” Tim whined. 

Jason just grinned down at him. In truth, he was a bit uncomfortable with just how much he’d grown. He was used to getting into people’s faces from down there, not towering over them. These days, he was taller than most seventh-years. 

They entered the Great Hall, specially decorated for the occasion with floating fairy lights and delicate ice chandeliers. Being growing boys, their first destination was the buffet, where they ran into Cassie. 

“Jason! Tim!” She looked at their linked arms and beamed at them. “Ha, called it! I knew you would make a cute couple!” 

“We’re not—” Jason said at the same as Tim told here: “No, no, we—” 

Cassie looked confused, but not exactly convinced. “Oh, sorry.” 

“It’s no problem,” Tim told her with a tight voice. Jason just turned away to heave food on his plate. 

He didn’t dare look at Tim, his neck burning in embarrassment. He had been afraid this would happen. Roy always told him he wasn’t any good at hiding his feelings. Did the whole school know that Jason was—was in love with Tim? Oh, god, this was a disaster. 

At least Tim was kind enough to not say anything as they carried their plates to one of the bar tables. 

Jason barely noticed that they had to walk past a group of Slytherins to get there until one of them hissed: “Blood traitor!” when they passed by. Jason knew from Tim’s stiffening posture that he’d heard it. Intent on giving whichever asshole said it a piece of his mind, Jason turned around.

Tim’s hand fisting into his shirt stopped him, though. “Don’t.” 

Jason had half a mind to ignore him, but Tim looked so unhappy—he couldn’t bear to make it worse. Urgh. He just couldn’t do anything right today, could he? He shouldn’t have come in the first place. This was a terrible idea. 

They reached the table and began to eat in silence. Finally, Tim stated: “You never minded insults before.” 

“They weren’t saying it to you then.” 

The first weeks after news had come out that Tim had refused the mark had been… bad, to put it mildly. Jason had been so worried Tim would crack under the strain of the constant stares and insults; he’d been so pale, more withdrawn an ever, that Jason had seriously considered carrying him to the nurse a few times. It had been infuriating, how little Jason could do to support him. He’d roughed up more than a few of those kids—the worst of the worst—behind everyone’s back while telling Tim to ignore them. 

Tim was always stronger than anyone expected. He’d come through. Quieter, maybe. Sharper, somehow. But still Tim. 

“Also,” Jason added, “that was Roman, and if ever a face cried out for a fist, his is it.” 

The corner of Tim’s mouth ticked up a bit at that, but he still looked far too unhappy for Jason’s taste. So he did the only thing he could think of: “C’mon, let’s dance.” 

Tim’s eyes widened in what could be surprise, or panic, or both. “I can’t dance! Can you?” 

“Nope. It’s gonna be terrible.” Jason put down his fork and reached out for Tim’s hand instead. “Let’s make Dick proud.” 

As soon as Tim gripped back, a hesitant smile on his face, Jason pulled him with him to the middle of the dance floor. Fuck everyone else. They were here to have fun. He was going to twirl Tim around until he was laughing again, and then they would finish eating, and they were going to be friends until the end. Jason wouldn’t let anyone or anything stop them. 


	6. Year Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.

Sixth year, so far, was turning out to be a disaster. 

They had a new headmaster, an older guy with a creepy laugh, an even worse sense of style than the last one, and an uncomfortable affinity for certain groups with certain opinions about blood status.

Jason missed Roy. He would’ve gotten such a kick out of terrorizing the new guy. 

On second thoughts, it was probably a good thing Roy had managed to graduate last year. He’d have been expulsed within a month, and Jason with him. The thought didn’t hold the terror it would once have—Jason had seen Bruce’s face when confronted with Headmaster Al Ghul on parent-teacher-day. If the prank that got Jason thrown out were spectacular enough, Bruce would probably take him out to lunch in celebration. The only thing that held Jason back now was that Tim would follow him, probably with something way more spectacular, and Tim couldn’t afford that kind of mark on his record if he wanted to be an Auror.

So they thought of other ways to resist. DADA had become increasingly useless with an insistence on ‘respecting all sides’ when it came to wizards while advocating for kill curses when faced with creatures. (Jason privately thought it should be the other way around.) In response, the students organized their own groups, practicing how to ward off Unforgivables and how to recognize and counter the Death Eaters’ preferred tactics. Dick stopped by occasionally (how he even got into the castle, Jason didn’t want to know) and offered up tips and exercises from his Auror training. 

One day, Tim called Jason over from where he’d been practicing cloaking spells and said: “I think you should teach us how to throw a punch.” 

The third-year Tim had been talking to looked confused. Jason didn’t blame him. Among them, Tim had quickly emerged as the best duelist. Jason was no slouch himself, but Tim? Tim was quick, precise, and _vicious_. The first time he’d shown them how to do an Unforgivable, the discomfort on most students’ faces had been plain. Jason didn’t care. They needed to know these spells to defend against them, and he trusted Tim to never turn them on someone who didn’t deserve it. 

So yeah. The idea that Tim wanted to add another element to their duels was pretty out there. 

Jason still shrugged. “I guess I could?” 

“Think about it,” Tim ordered, probably not even noticing how bossy he sounded. Jason grinned, anyway. 

It was good, seeing Tim slowly reintegrating with the rest of the school. With their new headmaster, the dividing line had been drawn in bright red, and everyone on this side of it slowly realized that they couldn’t afford to battle among themselves. Officially, Cassie was the leader of this little group, but everyone would need to be blind to overlook that Tim was her second. 

“May I get back to my spells now?” Jason asked, overly demure. 

Tim shook him a dark look but nodded. 

Later, when they were sitting by the lake after dinner, trying to finish up the rest of their homework by candlelight, Jason brought up their earlier discussion again. “I’m not actually qualified to teach physical self-defense, you know.” 

Tim shrugged. “I know. But I know you box, and it’ll be better than nothing. Remember the look on Sebastian’s face after you landed that hit on him?”

“You remember that?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.” Tim grinned at Jason. 

“You, too. That was the first time I wasn’t alone in a fight.” Jason considered. “Unless you consider Roy and me dropping glitter bombs a fight.” 

“Nah, you were running away too quickly for that.” 

“Damn right we were.” 

They looked out at the lake in companionable silence. 

Tim asked quietly: “Do you ever regret it?” 

“Regret what?” What was Tim on about now? 

“Sitting next to me that day.” 

Jason turned his head very slowly to stare at him. “Are you seriously asking me whether I regret _being your friend_?” 

After a second, Tim had to laugh at himself. “I guess? Just. It would’ve been easier for you.” 

“No, it wouldn’t have.” 

“Uh, yes? You were one of the cool kids back then. Obviously _I_ figured out that you’re a dork, but everyone else in our year thought you were this cool rebel.” 

Jason thought back. First year seemed far away now. “Are you saying you dragged down my coolness rating?” 

“The non-bigots would probably have gotten over themselves if you weren’t always hanging out with someone they think is tainted.” 

“Yeah, but who cares?” 

Tim shrugged. The gesture didn’t fool Jason, though, who knew well enough how to tell when the other was bothered by something. He gentled his voice as he added: “Tim, it wouldn’t have been easier for me, because then I would’ve had to do everything without you.” 

Tim looked at him. Jason squirmed under that scrutiny, sure that his feelings for Tim were written all across his face. Any second now, Tim would call him out on it and get angry. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and they’d just go on ignoring this for another decade or so. 

Jason would prefer the second option, to be honest. He meant it when he said that this friendship was more important. 

When Tim spoke next, however, it seemed to be entirely unrelated. “Hey, uh, wanna eat breakfast together?” 

“Yes?” Jason agreed slowly. “Like we do every morning?” 

“No, I meant—how about we spend the next Gotham trip together? We could get some ice cream.” 

“We do that every time. Are you okay?” 

“I’m trying to ask you on a date!” Tim snapped at him. “Stop trying to act dumb!”

For a second, Jason was righteously speechless. “Well, excuse _me_, Mr. Let’s-go-to-the-ball-as-friends!” 

Now it was Tim’s turn to gape. “You casually asked me during lunch!” 

“After you said people should just ask the person they want to go with! And how is that worse than ‘wanna eat breakfast together’?” 

“Okay, fine, next time I ask you for a date I’ll make it extra obvious!” 

“Fine!” 

“Fine!” 

They stared at each other. 

Jason held up a hand. “Wait. Did you just—”

Tim was way ahead of him, as usual. “So… that’s a yes, then?” 

“Yes!” Jason caught himself. “If you want it to be.” 

Tim nodded enthusiastically, and they shared a quiet laugh. Their eyes locked. Jason couldn’t help thinking that Tim had chosen the more romantic setting between the two of them (moon- and candlelight by the water and all that,) when Tim leaned in. 

For a brief moment, their lips pressed together. Jason wouldn’t be able to describe it later—the dryness of Tim’s lips, the softness of his hands in his, the sheer electricity of their tongues touching; all of that would come to mind, but be superimposed from the countless kisses to follow. This first one was fleeting and perfect, like two pieces finally clicking into place, and that was all there was to it. 

“__Finally__.” Tim sounded so exasperated, Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He was already thinking about transfiguring Tim a rose to present at breakfast. It was a date, after all. 


	7. Year Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's fair in love and war, and this is a bit of both.

“And that’s it! Tim Wayne has caught the snitch! The final score is 340-280! Slytherin wins the house cup!” 

Jason was yelling. He wasn’t the only one. Finally, _finally_ someone had dethroned Gryffindor. Even Slytherin champions were preferable to those smug assholes winning the fourth year in a row. 

Tim landed on the field, the fist holding the snitch raised triumphantly, and was immediately swarmed by his teammates. The audience was pouring out onto the field, Jason just one of the many people intent on delivering their congratulations in person. 

He stopped some feet away from the player’s pile. Seeing Tim being at the center of attention in a positive way made for a nice change. He deserved every bit of praise that was being screamed at him and then some. Jason wasn’t going to interrupt that. 

Tim, though, looked up, saw Jason, and straight away detangled himself to run over. Jason laughed and opened his arms to catch him. The kiss Tim pressed to his lips was a bit of a surprise—they weren’t exactly hiding their relationship, but this was a whole other level of PDA—but he sank into willingly, letting Tim conquer his mouth the same way he’d conquered the pitch. 

Hours later found them sitting in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by partygoers. Tim had been dragged here and there, but he kept returning to Jason’s side, snuggling up more and more openly the more drinks he had to down in celebration. Jason wasn’t about to discourage him. 

Tim’s hand pulled at his sleeve. “Hey, Jason?” 

Jason obediently ducked down so his face was level with Tim’s. “Yes?”

“We won,” Tim whispered as if it was a secret. 

Jason grinned at his sweaty mess of a boyfriend. “You did.” 

“No, _we_ did,” Tim insisted. “You and I.” 

“Pretty sure I didn’t contribute anything to your Quidditch team.” 

“No, no, you did! Without you, I’d—I’d—” Tim was gesticulating wildly now. Jason just about caught his hand before it poked an eye out. “You’re important!” he finished lamely.

Jason did his best not to laugh at him. “Okay, I think you had enough for tonight, hmm?” 

Tim looked like he wanted to protest, then reevaluated the situation. “If I say yes, can we have victory sex?” 

Next to them, Conner just about choked on his drink. 

“God, winning is the best,” Tim sighed contently. He’d sobered up a bit by now, but his movements were still languid, his posture relaxed as he clung to Jason like a particularly affectionate octopus. 

“Going to chase your dreams and become a pro, after all?” Jason asked, eyes laughing. 

Tim snorted. “Yeah, cause being even more exposed is the exact thing we need right now.” 

There was a heaviness behind his words, worry about a future in the current political climate, that Jason was determined to chase away. “Aww, think about all the screaming fans that will never have a chance to moon over you if you don’t go pro.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to encourage a lack of competition?” 

Jason hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno… I kinda liked watching you today.” 

“I _knew_ watching me play gets you hot.” 

“What can I say? It’s all these sticks and the sweat… and knowing that everyone might want to blow you for that catch, but I’m the one who gets to.” 

Tim’s smile turned smug with the memory. “That you did. Thank Merlin for single rooms. Dating the head boy has its advantages.” 

“Not to mention silencing charms.” Jason didn’t think the walls alone would’ve been enough to keep their privacy (or what was left of it after Tim’s announcement at the party). Not with the way Tim had moaned when Jason had finally gotten his mouth on him. Man, they really had improved a lot since that first, fumbling time. 

Tim blushed. “Yeah, those too.” 

“We better get assigned as roommates during basic training, or there’s gonna be a problem.” 

“About that…” 

Jason waited. This had been hanging over them ever since career day when Jason had signed up for Auror orientation with Tim. He didn’t know why Tim hadn’t asked. Was Tim worried that Jason was doing this to please him? Or that he was feeling pressure to follow in Bruce’s footsteps? 

“I just don’t understand why you want to become an Auror,” Tim finally said.

“I don’t.” 

“Then why—” 

“I want to do the basic Auror training while I get my teaching certificate.” 

Tim stared at him for a long moment. Then he punched Jason. 

There wasn’t any leverage, wrapped up in each other as they were, so Jason just laughed and tightened his arms around him. Tim tried to wiggle out of them, which inevitably lead to tickling, which ended in both of them back where they’d been, even more breathless and red-faced than before. 

Settling back down onto Jason’s chest, Tim told him: “I always thought you’d make an amazing teacher.” 

“Not here. A school that takes in everyone, no restrictions on wealth or blood status. A school that protects kids and prepares them.” 

“A sanctuary.” Tim smiled at him so fondly; Jason still didn’t know how do deal with that. 

“Yeah. Bruce says it sounds like the exact thing the Martha Wayne Foundation was created for, so. He already has a few properties we’ll be looking at this summer. It will take some time, of course, we need a permit and to hire teachers, and I need to do more research about inclusive education—I’m thinking of taking a muggle university class for that if we can fake a GED—” 

Tim kissed him long and gentle. When he pulled away, he whispered: “I’m so proud of you.” 

Jason swallowed. As much as he liked the attention his boyfriend was giving him, Tim hadn’t once said where he saw himself in all of this. “Look, I talked to the recruiters—the Auror ones, I mean—and they said that you can live anywhere you want after training. It just needs portkey access. ” 

“Will that be a problem during training for you?” 

“Uh, no?” Jason frowned, trying to make his meaning clearer. “All I’m saying is that once we’re done with training and you start saving the world on a daily basis, you could, you know, still live with me. If you wanted.”

“You mean, there is a place for me at your school?” Tim whispered. 

“Of course it’s only if you want it—” Jason started reassuring when it hit him what Tim was asking. God, they needed to get better at this communication thing. “Wait, you didn’t think I’d break up with you after graduation or something?” 

Tim visibly stalled. “Uh—” 

“Tim, you absolute nutfuck,” Jason told him as lovingly as possible, “you’re my best friend, I love you, and I want to spend as much time as possible with you. No, I’m not breaking up with you, and I’ll punch you if you try.” 

Tim swallowed and hid his face in Jason’s neck. “Oh. Okay.” He sounded kind of choked, but Jason could feel his smile against his skin, so he figured it was fine. 

Smiling to himself, he pulled Tim even closer by the waist and arranged them more comfortably. It was going to be morning soon; the first blues of pre-dawn were visible through the window. They should sleep, or tomorrow would be hell. Warm and happy as he was, Jason didn’t think it would be a problem for either of them. 

“I love you too, by the way,” Tim murmured.

“Go to sleep, hotshot.” 


End file.
